


Honey and Oats

by shepromisestheearth



Series: hundred word prompts [5]
Category: Original Work, Our Pure King (Prequel)
Genre: 1930s, Benjamin is Deeply Closeted, Gay, Internal homophobia, M/M, Mention of Nazis, Picnic, Prompt Challenge, Two bumbling boys, but neither will admit it, historical fiction - Freeform, mention of WW1, mention of electroconvulsive therapy, poland - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 07:38:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18245351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepromisestheearth/pseuds/shepromisestheearth
Summary: “You could phone her yourself,”“It sounds so much sweeter when you say it.”-Arriving on Shabbat, Benjamin sheepishly offers Eliasz to go on a picnic with him.





	Honey and Oats

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt here was “bread”! Please let me know if there’s any mistakes in the writing, especially historically.  
> Besides that, enjoy!

“Eliasz!” 

He looked up from his basket of eggs, his shirt sleeves rolled up to expose his pale arms. He crossed them, glaring up in the bright sunlight. The faint, glowing outline of his older sister standing on the porch became clear to him, and he cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice, “Yes?”

“Benjamin is at the door, I thought you might want to know.” Eleonora yelled, “Do you want to get it, or should I, and tell him you’re coming?”

“I’ll let him in, I can jump the gate,” Eliasz yelled back, tucking the white and yellow cloth over the brown and tan eggs nestled together in the basket. A hen nudged at his elbow, squawking.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to keep him waiting,”

“I can get it!” Eliasz rolled his eyes, a chicken beside him cooing as it looked into the basket. He gave her a small pet on the head, whispering, “She’s such a bitch, isn’t she, Aleksandra?”

Eliasz rose from the dirt, and dusted off his slacks, “Well, how do I look?” 

The group of hens ignored him, only squawking as they noticed the lack of eggs in their nests. 

“Don’t worry about them. You’ll keep the next round, well put them in with the cocks.” Eliasz chided them, “Then you can sit as long as you’d like, warming them with your plumed asses.” 

Karolina, the eldest hen, glared up at him before ruffling her feathers and sashaying away. Eliasz shrugged his shoulders at her, lifting his basket from the dusty ground surrounding the chicken coop. 

“Thank you, loves.” Eliasz blew kisses as he straddled the gate. 

It was May of 1936, which meant that it was nearly summer. Warmth pooled in Eliasz’s stomach as he imagined the coming halcyon days; the sun heating his bare back as Benjamin swam across the lake at the center of the cow pasture. The dark green of the water rolling off of tan skin, legs muscled with the strength of kicking a rugby ball halfway across Polska if he really wanted. Where Benjamin could slick back his wet hair and show Eliasz what his mouth tasted like. What love tasted like. 

‘Jesus Christ, don’t think like that,’ Eliasz thought to himself. He kicked a stone in his path, angry that he didn’t know if Benjamin’s heart could even contain loving him back. And even if he could... 

Reaching the back porch after what felt like forever, his hands began to sweat as he opened the back door. The familiar smell of his father cooking sausage filled the antiquated hallway. Cobwebs hung onto the corners of the lemon wallpaper and it peeled with the sun exposure, but Papa had insisted on letting it decay after Mama died. 

He glanced at his backside in the pewter mirror that sat above a wooden bench in the foyer; it wasn’t dirty, but he dusted it off anyways. 

Eliasz set the basket on the wooden bench where he and his siblings’ shoes sat underneath. He would retrieve the eggs later, or maybe Eleonora would be a darling for once and get them for him. 

As he straightened, Eliaz puffed out his chest and clenched his jaw. Too harsh? Or just masculine enough? He rubbed his face, silky from that morning’s shave. Instead, he relaxed his lips and fashioned them into a smile and puffed out his chest. It was a good balance of charm and brawn. 

“Open the fucking door, Eliasz.” He grumbled to himself, and walked down the hall to open the door for his best friend. 

Eliasz gave his best friend a once over; dressed smartly, a white shirt tucked into navy dress pants. It was evident that he had shed the kippah he had worn at the temple, along with his suit jacket, as suspenders stretched across his shirt without regard. The cloth of the bread he held in his arms was embroidered by his mother’s hand, China blue. A woven picnic basket hung off of his tanned arm, surely filled with French cheeses and a bottle of kompot. 

“Good afternoon,” Benjamin’s smile was relaxed and as light as whipped cream, “I had the idea of going out on a picnic together,”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to work on the Sabbath.” Eliasz leaned against the doorframe, nodding to the bread and the basket.

“I made it before sundown yesterday,” Benjamin’s shoulders relaxed, his tone dropping as he cradled the linen-wrapped challah. 

“Then it’s moldy, hm?”

Benjamin kicked his ankle, “Can’t I do anything nice for you?”

“Never, come inside.” Eliasz waved him in, biting back a laugh, “Milk? We’ve got plenty,”

 

“No, Mother made the two of us kompot,” Benjamin said, following his friend inside. He added with laughter, “Your favorite- cherry. She knows how much you like that flavor.”

“Oh, thank her for me, won’t you?” Eliasz said, putting his hands in his pockets. He puffed out his cheeks, trying not to stare at the smile on Benjamin’s face. 

“You could phone her yourself,” 

“It sounds so much sweeter when you say it,”

Benjamin rolled his eyes, before Eliasz grabbed him by the wrist and quietly nodded towards the back door. His dark eyes lit up, nodding vigorously. The two hurriedly cut across the house before Mr. Kaczynski could join them or ask what they were up to, as Benjamin whisper-complained Eliasz’s grip on his wrist was too tight.

“Pardon me if I’m dirty, too.” Eliasz said, as they stepped onto the porch. “I’ve been getting eggs all morning.” 

“You’re not.” Benjamin said quickly. 

“It’s a nice day, isn’t it?” Eliasz remarked, freeing Benjamin. He placed his hands on his hips and breathed, the pure Polish air carrying across the crystalline chill of the Caucasus Mountains. His hair glimmered in the sun, the color of hard candies from soda shops. 

Benjamin looked at his feet, pursing his lips to form a kiss against the noon, “Yes, our lady Poland is waking up from her slumber. She’s glad; allowed another summer of freedom. She’s glad for us.” 

“You’re too sentimental to be a doctor,” Eliasz mumbled, turning his face to Benjamin, “You should be a poet,” 

The corner of Benjamin’s mouth twitched, and he set off in front of Eliasz, “Poets don’t make money.”

“Neither do farmers,” 

“You know what I mean… I don’t think Father would be very keen about a writer for a son,” Benjamin said, his long legs penetrating the untrimmed grass and weeds. The basket swung at his slender waist, brushing against the linen of his shirt.

The two walked in silence, Elias’s strides long to match Benjamin’s natural gate. His dark eyes had become hard, his lips laced into a frown. Ebony hair was rustled by the wind, obvious that he had not put any product into his hair. The horizon stretched out before them, filled by pine and the smog of the city that was miles away. 

“How long?” 

Benjamin’s eyebrows puckered, his eyes lowering to Eliasz’s face, “What?”

“Poland’s independence.” At Benjamin’s furrowed brow, and lips open for a lecture, Eliasz heaved an explanatory sigh, “You know I don’t listen in history class.” 

“1918, at the end of the Great War.” Benjamin said, “That makes 18 years this November. Marian was born then.” 

“How’s he?” 

“He’s visiting,” Benjamin’s jaw was tight. 

Eliasz licked his lips, wishing Benjamin wasn’t carrying so much so he could offer to intertwine hands. Not that Benjamin would take him up on it. He seemed much more uneasy when it came to that now, and Eliasz almost didn’t blame him, “Is it bad?”

“The usual, uhm, ‘bullying’, I suppose.” Benjamin shrugged his shoulders, sucking in his cheeks, “Even if he’s an adult.” 

Benjamin ducked as they passed underneath a tree, pressing closer to Eliasz as he did so. He offered an embarrassed smile. 

“I’m sorry, Benjamin. Do you think right here would be alright? The tree would be nice to lean on.” Eliasz stopped and threw a glance back at the farmhouse, now the size of a chicken coop. 

“Yes, this is lovely.” Benjamin said softly, “I suppose I deserve it, anyhow.” 

Eliasz lowered himself into the tall stalks of grass, his back pressed against the smooth wood of the oak. He raised his arms to take the challah from Benjamin, “How so?”

Benjamin stiffened, and stopped lowering the basket. Realizing that Eliasz had noticed, he set it down and then sat himself, all very quickly to make up for lost time. 

“Benjamin, you can tell me, you know.” Eliasz said, as Benjamin folded back the cloth from the basket. Nestled inside was a cheese wheel wrapped in cheesecloth, two perspiring bottles of crimson kompot, and strawberries. 

“It’s nothing, really,” Benjamin laughed, but it wasn’t genuine; it didn’t have the fullness or the imperfection of his real laugh, this was concise and shaky, “Rugby stuff, just sibling rivalry. He’s probably jealous I’m a fly-half.” 

“Yeah,” Eliasz laughed, placing the bread in the basket, “Older brothers can eat horseshit for all I care. At least Marian isn’t a Nazi.” 

“Well, that wouldn’t make much sense, now would it?” Benjamin giggled now, a true laugh, as he popped open the top of the glass bottle.

“What do you mean?” 

“The Nazi party’s anti semitic, Eliasz, you really need to read the news more.” Benjamin grinned, taking a triangle of the cheese.

“Really? That must be why Pops was so angry. He never told me why.” Eliasz pursed his lips, “How’d that come about?”

“The German chancellor said he wanted to exterminate the Jews, something like that. Wouldn’t be the first time someone tried.” Benjamin shrugged, “Maybe that’s why Poles and Jews like each other so much.” 

“Yeah, everyone fuckin’ hates us.” Eliasz took a long guzzle of his own drink, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. When he noticed Benjamin looking, he blotted a bit more delicately and cleared his throat, “I just want to milk cows without Russia pissing on me.” 

Benjamin smiled, “Ah, yeah… your dad fought the Russians in the war, didn’t he?”

“No, the Germans. That’s how he met Mama.” Eliasz said, “She was a sweet little German lady who sympathized with the Poles and took him in. And Papa took her back and married her.” 

“That’s sweet.” 

“Dad hated Germans. Except Mama.” Eliasz cleared his throat, “Did your dad serve?” 

“Yeah, Father was a medic and my mom sang to the injured soldiers with a Jewish choir. They met during the war, too, and got married in ‘17,” Benjamin shrugged, taking a small sip of kompot. 

“Weird how war brings people together like that…,” Eliasz mused, tearing off a piece of the braided bread before shoving it in his mouth. He continued between the fluffy texture against his tongue, words garbled, “Falling in love and shit. That won’t be me.” 

Eliasz swallowed, turning to face Benjamin. His face was serene, his hair still blowing in the wind. Placing his hand on Benjamin’s lightly, he whispered, “I want something more than that. A love that’s not desperate because of the circumstances, you know?”

“I-I suppose,” Benny stuttered, his cheeks blossoming with red. 

Eliasz couldn’t help but stare at him, biting his lip to suppress a smile. His doe eyes of coffee were full of concern and apprehension, his eyebrows knitted together as he looked at Eliasz’s hand on top of his like it was a foreign object. His full lips were blush pink, and looked as soft and delicate as a lamb’s ear; Eliasz found himself leaning towards him without meaning to, whispering his name under his breath, “Benjamin,” 

Benjamin turned his face to Eliasz, and the two were mere inches apart. Benjamin’s eyes flicked between Eliasz’s and where they rested, which he was surprised to find were his slightly parted lips. His Adam’s Apple bobbed, and his heart hammered in his chest as his hand was squeezed tightly by his best friend. 

Pulling his hand away, Benjamin looked to his left where Eliasz could not see the tears that filled his eyes as he squeezed them shut. Scouring his father’s medical books, he had tried and prevented this from happening. He didn’t want the electroconvulsive therapy, because that meant admittance. 

“I can give you the recipe for the challah, if you want. I added more on top than our family’s calls for, and I know you and your family enjoy it…,” Benjamin managed, hiccuping, “Honey and oats, honey and oats.”


End file.
